Never Truly Gone
by xPandaPearx
Summary: I sighed and nodded, pulling the gun from my head. "It's just...the pain, it's never truly gone." For Finnea, surviving the apocalypse seemed easy enough. That is, until she's brought to the prison after an accident, and runs into someone from her past who shakes up her whole world. Rated T for now, it may change. Pairing withheld until later chapters.


One year, two months.

It had been one year and two months since I watched society crumble into nothing. The world had gone to hell, and the dead began to rule it.

I watched everyone I knew die, and there was absolutely nothing I could have done to stop it. I watched those I had come across become infected and perish-I even had to be the one to put a bullet into their head sometimes.

My name is Finnea Marie Simmons, and I watched my life fall apart before my very eyes.

* * *

Seeing the streets of a town completely empty has to be one of the most eerie things to come across. The dead silence, no pun intended, is enough to drive even the toughest man into insanity. The fact that I could still stand it was a miracle within itself.

As I passed abandoned shops, I saw to my dismay that the places had almost been picked clean of any or all useful items. All that remained were items of no real use that would most likely stay there for as long as this outbreak went on..most likely for as time will go.

I looked up at a home built above a pet store, only to see one of the curtains fall back into place, as if someone had backed away quickly. I stared for a moment, then retrieved my gun from it's holster, making my way to the store, slamming my fist on the glass a few times and standing on the sidewalk, watching for any lurkers on the street. A moment later, I heard the all too familiar slam of a body colliding with plexiglass. I turned, seeing two lurkers inside, scratching and itching to get out. They seemed to be both female, but were too decayed to truly know. My old group member, Doug, had shown everyone the trick of hitting the the windows before entering to lure the dead out of hiding. So far, it hadn't failed me once. I thanked God everyday for Doug having been nice enough to share his knowledge with us before he...passed on.

I approached the door and waited until the walkers were behind it, pushing to get out. I opened the door a crack and quickly fired two shots, hearing their now permanently dead bodies hit the floor. With a smile of victory now on my face, I pulled open the door and stepped over the bodies, looking around. There were aisles of assorted animal supplies and toys, appearring as though they'd never been touched since everything went to hell. After a moment of looking, I found a door in the back marked, 'Do Not Enter'. If I was correct, it was the door leading upstairs. I stayed low, and quietly made my way towards the door, listening for any noise. Just as I reached out for the doorknob, I could hear footsteps directly above me. But the only thing was that these didn't belong to those of the undead- they were far too coordinated and quick to be from a lurker. Slowly and carefully, I turned the doorknob and pushed it a bit, only to hear a fairly loud creak emit from the old wooden door. I cursed under my breath and pushed it open a bit more so that I'd be able to squeeze through without having to open it all the way. I entered and shut it behind me, seeing the two staircases when I turned.

One was leading upstairs- to the home, I'd guess, and the other heading down, probably to the basement. The footsteps were now more clear, and it was almost as though the owner of them knew my location. It did put me on edge, yes, but the curiousity had full control of me.

'Just stay calm, Finn...just stay calm...' I told myself as I began to climb the stairs, my gun gripped tightly in my hand. With each step I went up, my heartbeat accelerated. I wasn't about to ditch the place and leave, though, that was damn sure.

When I finally reached the door, I knocked three times loud and clear. "Hello? Is anyone alive in there?" I called, my hand on the doorknob,sweating from agitation. I was greeted with silence. Another three knocks, more silence.

"Great." I muttered. This meant I _had _to go in by force. I turned the knob, just to find it was locked. For a moment I considered jimmying the lock, but instead of wasting the time, I went for body slamming the door.

SLAM. THUD. CRACK. As the door fell from it's hinges, a loud- and very concerning- cracking sound came from my shoulder. And to top it off, I hit the ground full force onto the door and on my newly newly injured shoulder. I cried out in extreme pain, hearing the mystery footsteps right around the corner. My eyesight became fuzzy- the pain was far too much for me to handle. I shook my head a bit and looked to where I heard the noise, and made out two forms- possibly two males- one with what I only guessed had to be a crossbow in his hands, and the other a long sword.

At that moment, my head fell back and I lost consciousness.

* * *

"-are seemingly good, I'd expect for her to come to any time now."

As I woke up, my first thought was if I was dead or not. The pain in my right side- my arm and shoulder, mainly- was less intense than it was before. I couldn't remember anything except for getting hurt and passing out right after. I knew there was something else, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

After a moment, I let my eyes flutter open. The first thing, or person, rather, I saw was a man. He looked to be in his 70s and had snowy white hair. Beside him was a woman with short gray hair. They didn't seem to notice I was awake, so I spoke up.

"H-hello..." I attempted to sit up as well, but my shoulder prohibited it. The duo turned, and the woman smiled gently at me. I also noticed the man had a prosthetic leg.

"How are you feeling?" The woman asked, coming over to me and feeling my forehead.

"Alright, I guess. What happened? All I can remember is getting-" She held up a finger, cutting me off.

"Do you remember anything about yourself?"

I thought for a moment, and nodded. "My name is Finnea Simmons, but everyone called me Finn. I'm 17 years old, I was born in Macon, and I've been alone for four months."

The woman smiled and nodded, whole the man hobbled to a table and wrote something down.

"I'm Carol, and this is Hershel. You had an accident, and some of our people found you. You're safe now, but we need to ask you some questions later on, when you're stronger."

I nodded a bit, but protested. "I'm fine, really. Just a little injury, I'll live. You can ask me the questions now, if you'd like. I'm strong enough, too." I offered her a smile to convince her more.

Carol paused for a moment. "It's good to know that you already feel better, but you'll be required to stay in here for the time being! I'm sorry. Who knows, maybe you'll get visitors sooner or later. Everyone'sbeen asking about you."

I nodded. "Fine, but please don't make me wait, I'd like to get everything sorted out so I can go."

Carol got a surprised look in her eyes, as if she was wasn't expecting me to be eager to depart. "Don't worry, it won't be longer than a day."

Once again, I nodded. This woman was _not _taking no for an answer, that much was evident. She got up and left a moment later, leaving me with the man, Hershel. He asked me a few basic questions, and departed as well, leaving me completely alone now.

When I was sure no one else would come back in, I pulled myself up- with much flinching and groaning- and walked around a bit, stretching out my legs and observing my surroundings. I was in a simple little room, perhaps a private clinic. There were a few prison style beds, some desks, and a metal door. That, of course, intrigued me. I looked down at my right arm, finally seeing it situated in a sling. My shoulder had some colorful brusing and, and a curved line of maybe 15 stitches. Whatever happened back there must have been worse than I thought if I had a sling and stitches. I tiptoed over to the door, putting my ear against the cold metal. I couldn't hear a sound, and assumed the hallway was empty.

I was wrong.

Once I pulled away, I quickly pulled the heavy door open- there in the hall stood two boys, one who looked younger than me, the other...familiar. So familiar that I remembered him almost instantly.

Just as I was about to speak, though, a voice rang out from down the hall. "What are you two doing? I made it clear to stay away from her!"

The two boys quickly departed just as an older man came into vire and pushed me back into the room, but not hard enough to hurt me. He shut the door, locking it.

I remained silent.

"Who are you?" He finally asked, looking over at me.

"I-I'm Finnea. And you are...?" I asked. He needed to do some explaining, and I needed to leave.

Unfortunately for me, he wasn't in the mood to take any questions. "How many walkers have you killed?"

Confusion came across my features. "I-I don't unders-"

"How many walkers have you killed?" He repeated, more demandingly.

I racked my brain for an answer to possibly satisfy him. What does he think, I keep track or something? "Uh...I'd say at least 75."

He nodded. "How many people have you killed?"

I stared for a moment, offended. Anger filled me suddenly. "Do you think I'm some sort of murderer?! I've never killed anyone, you know why? Because it's wrong and I'm not like that!"

Again, he nodded. "I'll need time to decide if you're staying or not. Until then, you stay here." With that, he left, locking the door from the outside, leaving me standing there in confusion.


End file.
